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The Interviewer *short story*

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  • The Interviewer *short story*

    Okay, this is a short story I wrote for Creative Writing at University and promptly got an A for it. I sincerly hope that everyone who reads it here will give their thoughts and opinions on it. It's a year old now and well...enjoy.

    The Interviewer
    By Miles Reid-Lobatto



    The light streams through my window and hits me on the eyes, bringing about my first moments of awakening. Soon afterwards, a shrill piercing sound echoes throughout my apartment, forcing me to throw aside the bedclothes and hurl my naked body out of bed and onto my feet. I stumbled to the table on the other side of the room and took two pills from the small dispenser, the high strength energy pills took affect and I could feel the aches and pains slowly replaced with a mild euphoria.

    The Day was just starting.

    I showered and ate breakfast and dressed into my black suit, I looked down and noticed the red stain for the first time, I must have spilt something at work. I cursed silently and hoped that Janice would come back from the Hospital today; she was a wonder at getting the stains out. I looked at my watch and decided that I had enough time to waste before I had to leave for work.

    The familiar sound of the printer started to come from the main room, the daily News-bulletin had arrived. I picked up my briefcase and made for the door, picking up the News-bullet as I passed it. I left my grey walled apartment and made my way to work.


    As soon as I left the apartment building, the quarterly-hour train car drew up at the stop. I stepped onboard and presented my card to the onboard computer, it scanned it and an automated voice told me that I had twenty more rides left on the card before I had to replace it with a new one. As I slid into my seat, I read the News-bullet; there was nothing particularly important to report today, the most news worthy of articles was the mention that five terrorists had been caught and imprisoned for attempting to subvert our way of life by trying to smuggle in undesirable elements to take our jobs and work their way up to positions of power where their malignant influence could lead to chaos and disarray. It was good that they were caught before innocent people like my brother and my parents ended up killed in the crossfire of the terrorist’s jealous hatred for our way of life. I folded up the News-bullet and placed it in my briefcase as the train car reached my stop. I stepped off and walked through the streets until I reached the office.

    As I signed into the office, I noticed my colleagues and friends all hard at work, there was the flicker of eye contact between but apart from that, there was no actual greeting. I sat down at my desk and looked over the files of the subjects I was supposed to interview today, I noticed that the first one was ready to interview now. I opened my desk and took out the various things I would need for the interview.

    The first interviewee was rather young, he couldn’t have been older than 20 at the very most. I looked over at Gain, my colleague in these interviews and sat down beside him. Gain was tall and his face was hard and rugged.
    “I see you’ve started without me,� I said.
    Gain smiled,
    “He seemed such a promising lad. I thought I would get the interview started early, we do have quite a lot of interviewees to go through.�
    “How true,� I replied as I leaned forward to inspect the boy, he was very nervous, then again, they always were.

    I started off by breaking his left wrist, he screamed and whimpered like a stuck pig (a rather filthy animal that we used to eat for food before the Great Change, I had seen video footage of pigs when I was a child.).
    “Tell me your name,� I said.
    He stammered his reply weakly,
    “Isn’t it….in my file?�
    I took his right thumb in my hand and bent it back until the bone broke,
    “I know it is in your file, but I want you to tell me your name.�
    “George….George Crave…�
    I smiled and thanked him. Gain asked the second question,
    “How old are you, George?�
    “Eighteen…�
    “You’re very young to be a terrorist.�
    “I’m not a terrorist…I’m not!� screamed George, then he instantly regretted it as I broke three more fingers on his hand.
    “Oh, but you are, George, attempting to smuggle out homosexuals from the Dome city before we can get our hands on them, the homosexual act is condemned by God himself, remember Leviticus 20, verse 13-"If a man lies with a male as with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination; they shall be put to death; their blood is upon them." In the name of our God, we must take great steps to eradicate it from our gene pool before they can promote their vile acts and corrupt our youth, they are useless to us and do nothing to help increase our society. Anyone who goes against this very law is immediately a terrorist.�
    George started to cry; I raised my hand and slapped him hard, almost knocking him from his chair.
    “Get up,� I said harshly, slowly, he tried to grasp the desk, but with the condition of his hands, it was rather difficult. He didn’t seem to be a bad child, his files seemed to show a rather intelligent lad, he just seemed to have listened to the wrong people and ignored the necessity of sticking to the rules that our first generation of Leaders had laid out, rules that must be adhered to at all cost.

    Those who do not follow the path that society mapped for us call people in my profession �fiends’ or �monsters’, but I don’t believe myself to be an evil person. I do not even understand the term as such, what is evil about wanting to protect the citizens of our society from undesirable elements? The propagation of our way of life, our belief structure as the only way of life gives way to only one point of view. Alternate ways of life lead to alternate ways of thinking, alternate ways of thinking lead to conflict, conflict leads to violence, violence leads to death and how can such pointless death benefit us?

    After five minutes, I felt sorry for his attempts to get on his feet and so I got out of my chair and pulled him to his feet, he told us everything he knew, which wasn’t much, a few names of people we already had under surveillance, some safe house locations, but it was obvious that he was no-where near the higher echelons of this Terrorist unit. He was soon dragged out of the interview room to be taken to a place where he could repay his acts of terrorism,
    The Food Conversion plant where he would be skinned and sliced into meat to be fed to the citizens of the Dome city, we couldn’t have dissidents ruining our way of life and endangering the lifestyles of the citizens.

    We had three more interviewees, like George, they were young and easily broken and like George, they were sent to the FC Plant. Then, a shrill voice came over the PA System and told us that it was lunchtime. Gain and I walked to the canteen and took the lunch treys, a plate of cooked meat and gravy, some rather burnt baked potatoes and some carrots. Also on the trey was some chocolate and coffee. I wolfed down my food ravenously; the necessary harshness of the interviewing process did nothing to ruin my appetite. While doing, I used my miniature palm computer to send the regulation e-mails to the interviewees’ next of kin telling them of the necessary fate that had befallen their children or loved ones.

    DEAR SIR/MADAM

    IT IS MY DUTY TO REPORT THAT YOUR SON/DAUGHTER/HUSBAND/WIFE/BROTHER/SISTER/FATHER/MOTHER/etc HAS BEEN ARRESTED FOR TERRORIST ACTS AGAINST OUR WAY OF LIFE AND AS SUCH BEEN RECYCLED INTO FOOD AS IS THE LAW FOR THE CRIMINAL, THE INSANE, THE OLD AND THE DEAD. (Re: USE LAW- All those who can no longer aid the good of the society or seek to bring down the society intentionally shall be recycled into meat in order to feed our society)

    AS IS THE LAW, 100 POINTS HAS BEEN ADDED TO YOUR CREDIT ACCOUNT



    I then noticed I had gotten an e-mail from Janice, the hospital was discharging her and she would be home tonight. I smiled, I had missed Janice while she was in hospital, the rigid schedule of my job meant I could not have visited her as often as I had wished, but she understood that the job had to come first for the society was more important than me visiting her daily to check up on her health.
    “Would you like to join me later for a drink? I’ve been storing up my alcohol ration on my credit account and have enough for a few pints and you know I always need company when drinking.�
    I smiled and shook my head,
    “I can’t, Janice is out of the hospital tonight, plus I already wasted my alcohol ration this week on Tuesday.�
    Gain smiled and shoved me playfully,
    “Okay, I understand, just when you need some fresh air, contact me. Remember who your friends are and all that.�
    “Very well,� I said, Gain’s good humour was always infectious.

    Why won’t these misguided people understand that the squabbles over differing opinions was what led to the Great Change and the devastation of our world by Nuclear fire. Our world was devastated by the idea of �multi-cultural-ism’ and it was the task of the survivors to set up a better way of life. If to make sure our culture and society survive, we have to recycle the dead into food, then I will do it, if I have to sign the death warrants of homosexuals and alternate religious thinkers because they pose a danger to our way of life, then I will do it.

    “Why do you do this?� asked the next subject. His face was bloodied and bruised, his record had him placed as a member of our police corp and as such, his body had been extensively beaten as part of his physical training.
    I didn’t reply as I slapped him around the face with my baton and signalled him to be dragged away. The work day was ending.

    The train car was packed with sitting people, as I straightened my cuffs, I noticed that I had a fresh blood stain, such was a common result of my work.

    I have no doubts on the fact that our society works, no matter the supposed cost, I have seen no cost to my freedom, I have grown up in the shadow of the dome and in the shadow of my God, I understand that he is loving, yet knows he must be harsh in the purging of undesirable elements, I am happy to do his work in order to safeguard our society.

    As I walked into my apartment, I saw my wife sitting, her brilliant brown hair seemed to light up the main room, she was cooing the small bundle she held to her breast. She looked up at me and smiled, her smile set fire to my heart and I wanted her to finish. I walked up to her as she moved the bundle away from her breast, revealing a tiny baby. I picked him up gently and cradled my son against my chest, he was so…beautiful, so innocent, I knew at that moment that God was rewarding me for my work in preserving his law and his way of life.

    “How was work?� asked Janice as I kissed her on the forehead.
    “Just the usual same old day,� I said quietly, as my son gurgled as sleep embraced him.

    end

  • #2
    Deliciously dysphoric dystopia, my dear! I enjoyed that.
    Why don't you send me something for Prototype 1? :)

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